Forced Flight
by vlad the inhaler
Summary: Accused of treason and facing execution for consorting with the Fallen, Harry and Molly are forced to flee the Council. Unfortunatley for Harry, the Council isn't entirely wrong. Goes AU during White Night. Eventual, very eventual, Harry/Molly.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Obviously, characters and concept does not belong to me, in any way. However, I do want to make note that the first ten lines have been lifted directly from White Night. After which, it's all my own work. Thank you.

* * *

There was a sudden sense of someone standing close to me—an almost tangible physical sensation of someone slim and feminine pressed against my back, arms casually around my waist, soft breath and lips moving near my ear. It was odd, but not at all unpleasant. I caught myself enjoying it, and firmly reminded myself of the danger of allowing the demon to do that.

_With your permission, you need only speak to them in English, my host,_ Lasciel said. _I will translate it between mind and mouth, and they will hear their tongue from your lips._

_I so did not need_ any _image involving their tongues and my lips,_ I responded.

Lasciel let out a delighted laugh that bubbled through my mind, and I was smiling a little when I faced the ghoul and said, "Okay, asshole. I've got two kids missing, and the only chance you have of getting out of this alive is if I get them back. Do you understand me?"

Both ghouls looked up at me, surprise evident even on the inhuman one's face. I got a similar look from Ramirez and Meyers.

"Do you understand me?" I asked the ghouls quietly.

"Yes," stammered the wounded ghoul, apparently in English.

Ramirez's dark, heavy eyebrows tried to climb up under his bush hat.

I had to remind myself that this was not very cool. I was using a dangerous tool that would one day turn on me. No matter how savvy and tough it made me look in front of the other Wardens.

At the time though, my only focus was saving the kids. They were relying on me, on us, to keep them safe, and despite every precaution, we had failed. Completely and utterly.

The two ghouls realized I was their best hope for getting out of here alive, and were surprisingly forthcoming with information. I promised them their lives, if nothing else, and with Lasciel's help, Ramirez and I were soon traveling over the Nevernever, foolishly optimistic in our pursuit.

"Hell's Bells" I whispered, fighting the urge to throw up everything I'd eaten the past few days. We found them alright, enough of them to identify anyhow. The Trailmen twins were hunched together, their bodies twisted and maimed like some grotesque sculpture. Chunks of flesh were missing from both bodies, and a cold rage suddenly flowed through my body. I liked it. I wanted to kill, kill everyone who could have done a thing like this. I scared Ramirez shitless – he never said a word, but his eyes spoke volumes

All other thoughts were pushed away when my eyes fell upon the murderer, its mouth still streaked with the blood of my wards. Without thinking, I summoned Hellfire, felt it course through me as I prepared my attack. A second later, and I doubt I would have condemned them with fire at all. The death would be too quick, too clean for the beasts. I wanted to rip them apart limb for limb, slowly and agonizingly - make sure they felt everything the twins had felt one hundred fold. As it was, I aimed my staff and shouted, '_Fuego'. _The smell of sulfur filled the air, and a great flame roared forward, consuming everything in its path.

The heat was overwhelming, and even had I been able to keep my eyes open, the inferno denied me any pleasure of watching my opponent burn to ash. When I was able to look around, there was precious little evidence that anything had happened, no marking of the travesty that had occurred. Only charred remains and a smattering of boiled blood - a sickening brown crust splattered at random across the hard ground, that oddly enough made me think of Créme Brulée.

Now, at long last, I did heave, crouching over as bile came rushing up through my throat. The bitter smell of acid and half digested hamburger feebly fought against the overpowering stench of sulfur and charred flesh – ghoul and human. "Mother of God", Ramirez whispered, and I looked up, finally returning to the larger world. "Harry...Harry, there is nothing left here. We need to go."

_Needed._ Right. Because I had done such a great job when I the twins needed me. Still, there were two worthless sacks of shit back at Camp Kaboom, and if nothing else, I could extract further vengeance against them.

"Right...go" I replied shakily, giving Ramirez a hesitant nod. "Come on then." We walked back through the gate, back to the blistering heat of the southwestern sun. I still felt cold.

I killed the pair of them, out in the desert. I didn't summon hellfire - I wanted this to last, to hurt as long as possible. A good, old fashioned Barbecue. They screamed, howled in agony as their skin cracked in the magically enhanced heat, blood pouring from a hundred wounds before sizzling with a sickly hiss, like dried riverbeds across their bodies. As they passed the threshold that protected them from any further pain, I summoned my last reserves of energy, and a final time, hollered, '_Fuego_!'

The ground hissed and popped, the sand transforming to glass as the ghouls let out a final shriek.

"Eight minutes!" I roared, choking a sob and raging in anger. "You bastards had them for eight minutes!" I staggered forward – small jerking steps before I once more began to heave. Mercifully, there was nothing left to eject.

As for the second time in all of twenty minutes I fled and returned to some form of sanity, an awful silence invaded, and I felt the distinct sensation of waking up - my awareness returning once more.

"Harry..._Mon Dios_" Ramirez's voice broke the eerie calm that had settled over me for a second.

I whirled around, my audience in perfect unison taking a half step back. Carlos, his face twisted in both shock with just a tiny hint of understanding. Captain Luccio, her newfound and accidental youthfulness suddenly betrayed every year she truly was. Her eyes cut through me, as if she was seeing me for the first time. Coming from a woman I had once shot at point blank rage when instinct told be me - correctly, thank God - that a Necromancer had switched bodies with her... it was terrifying.

The most terrifying thing though, was the children. I took a foolish pride in being the 'cool' one out of the so called adults at Camp Kaboom. I was young, younger than most the other wardens by more than a few decades, despite the recent crop of replacements. The fact that I couldn't speak Latin actually worked in my favor. I was _fun'.._handsome too. Now though...

Now, they were scared – terrified - of me, some were even sparing fleeting looks of sympathy towards the foul smelling charcoal of their attackers. I was the monster to be defended against - their constant flinches when my eyes passed over them and the way they hid behind the wardens left nothing to the imagination.

"Warden Ramirez, Warden Dresden, with me." Captain Luccio's tone left no room for argument, and I nodded, pretending not to notice her look of relief when it seemed that I wasn't completely unhinged.

We walked to the hut that was serving as the Captain's private quarters in total silence. When we arrived, Luccio waved Ramirez in, ordering me to remain outside with an emotionless, "Warden, hold."

I spent a half hour waiting outside the hut, slowly burning up in the sun, cursing the impotency that clung to me even now. Around me, the kids and what precious few wardens were available were putting things back together. Lessons were canceled, as saving lives took precedence. The wounded had to be cared for, the dead collected - grieving would come later. Despite which, I was told to sit on my ass, and not so subtly given an unofficial watcher. John Carlton was a massive block of a man, not much shorter than myself but easily carrying an extra hundred pounds. He looked like a stereotypical lineman – the kind that completely ruined the game of football for me back in high school – no neck and all muscle. He was young, and had made Warden much the same way I had - by being alive. Carlton was nominally under my regional command, working in Boston, but it was obvious that for now, our roles had done a complete one-eighty.

"Harry, good luck." Carlos' voice broke through my thoughts. He looked uneasy, remorseful even. "Probably shouldn't go in there expecting a raise, should I?" I asked, more to break the growing tension than to say something intelligent. He let out a hollow laugh. "Maybe not." he said, before looking back down. "Talk to you later..." I nodded, I had nothing else to say.

Luccio's quarters were meticulously clean. Completely sterile, a perfect study of military efficiency. She sat, iron faced, behind a desk piled with organized stacks of paper. Her youthful looks were in direct conflict with the serious aura that radiated from her, the dimples I secretly loved obviously weren't coming out to play...

"Remain standing, Warden. Report your exact recollection of all events from the commencement of today's hostilities, onward." Warning sign number one, government slang. If my nuts weren't already on the line, they sure as hell were now. Then, thank God, she sighed. "Dresden, what the hell happened?"

So I talked. I told her about crossing into the Nevernever, and finding the bodies of the Trailmen twins, and how I'd taken out their murderer with all the power I had. How I had come back, filled with a rage to continue my vengeance, and had seen the opportunity in the two remaining ghouls. How even now, I did not regret my obsessive violence against them. My voice held an unspoken challenge, and thankfully Luccio was the more mature one of us, and ignored my not-so-subtle posturing.

"Alright Dresden... just one final question and you're free to go." She said when I fell silent, her tone lightening ever so slightly, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Shoot" I asked, before wincing internally at my poor word choice.

She held my gaze, and I wanted to do nothing more than get out of there as soon as possible. "Since when do you speak Ghoul?"

Damn, damn and damned thrice. Either Ramirez or Meyers had blabbed then - wonderful. I had no idea what I could possibly say to get out of this without causing a scene. Despite my many wonderful and lifesaving abilities, lying to beautiful women isn't one of them.

"Since the battle with Kemmler's disciples." My mouth replied for me with unnerving ease. "To be honest, I had no idea I could until I did, if that makes sense." I was on a roll. "It doesn't seem to be a controlled ability - I imagine right now my Ghoul is on par with my Latin." Of course, with Lash in my head, that was probably true - just not the way I meant it.

Captain Luccio didn't make captain because she's dimwitted or easily led, and it was obvious she wasn't entirely buying what me and my beautiful mouth were doing our utmost damnedest to sell her. Her eyes wandered to my gloved hand, and I felt a slice of fear that she knew that more than damaged flesh hid behind the leather. She looked up a minute later, and I could have kissed Lasciel for keeping my face under control.

"Thank you Warden, that is all." Suppressing the need to sigh in relief, I gave a curt nod and then marched stiffly out, every part the perfect tin soldier.

That was all months ago, and since then, I'd done my best to leave it there. Still, I felt myself channeling just a bit of that anger as Carlos, Molly, Mouse and myself drove off in the Blue Beetle towards the _de facto_ headquarters of the White Court, the Raith family home.

Several years ago, I had inadvertently started a war with a different group of vampires - the Red Court, when I pulled off a one man firestorm in the heart of a formal gathering, killing more than a few vampires in the process, including Bianca, an important figure in Chicago's less reputable stations, and a newly honored noble with the Vampire Court. It didn't matter that I'd been responding to said vampire kidnapping and turning my girlfriend at the time, nor that they'd had every intention to kill me that night anyway, regardless of my protection as an emissary for the White Council. As far as technicalities went, I was the aggressor, and blood has been spilled on every continent since because of it.

As if that wasn't enough, factions within the White Court were doing much to fragment the Council's already tenuous position. Human practitioners of magic were being killed off by vampires disguised as wardens, and as such a growing rift was forming between practitioners and those sworn to protect them. We'd managed to narrow down who was responsible, and in fact were heading out now to deal with that very threat. Turns out rivals for House Raith's position of power within the White Court decided that a massacre of magically attuned humans would destabilize Raith's peace platform and with a bit of luck, much of his prestige.

Of course, situations are rarely so simple, and the Raith House was itself in a state of flux. Lara Raith was secretly in charge – her father now a mere figurehead. The Council backed Raith as far as the Council would ever openly back vampires – the greasy underworld of politics. So in addition to taking out a gang of murdering vampires, I was also being used as a pawn for internal court politics, as well as acting as an emissary of goodwill towards the peace process.

Oh for the good old days of scraping by locating car keys and wedding rings. Even Murphy's attempts to arrest me seemed a nicer alternative that what I faced these days.

We drove to Chateau Raith in an uneasy silence. I didn't think much of it at the time – despite her bravado, Molly was at heart a terrified and barely legal girl, about to get her first taste of battle. Ramirez was uncharacteristically tight lipped, but that could easily be attributed to the death trap we were all but walking into. The anticipation of fighting for your life does funny things to people – it wasn't at all strange for the normally outgoing self-styled Casanova to suddenly look nauseous. For my own part, I tried to not think at all while unconsciously fondling the pentacle I wore around my neck that I had inherited from my mother. It was in a way my security blanket, my faith in magic and its ability to save me. Really, the only one who seemed to more or less carefree was Mouse, who just seemed happy to be coming for the ride.

My first hint that something wasn't right was about ten minutes out from the front gates. We drove out of the city, northward where the urban sprawl opened up into large wealthy estates that managed to maintain some feel of rural essence despite the metropolis' presence. Raith's manor is in the middle of a forest filled with massive, ancient trees – as if it had been left untouched since people had inhabited the area. Hell, belonging to what amounts to a Vampire King, it may very well have.

Ramirez stopped the car, long before we'd come anywhere near the front gates. He took a deep breath, sparing Molly a glance before looking at my face but avoiding my eyes.

"You alright?" I asked, trying to ignore the tightening sensation in my stomach. Mouse growled softly, and I looked up, startled. Something was definitely wrong, and even Molly was suddenly looking a lot more nervous than she had a moment ago. Finally, Ramirez spoke.

"Ghoul...you spoke to them, they understood you. I heard you...Meyers and I." He looked up at me, as if parsing together the final pieces of a puzzle. "Your Latin _sucks_." He whispered, I had to strain to hear a word he said, though there was a current of steel in him that sent a shiver of fear town my spine. "I don't know what's going on Harry, but you've changed…the rage, the mad language skills…you've done something. But…I'm sorry."

Sorry? My retort was on the tip of my tongue, that we didn't have the time for this right now, but I could explain everything, later. Preferably over a steak and beer at McAnally's.

I didn't have that moment though, as an instant later a blinding white light flashed outside the car. Molly shrieked and Mouse was now growling in earnest, though I still couldn't see a thing as my eyes cringed at the brightness.

"Traitor, I had full faith that it was only a matter of time before you exposed yourself." _Hell's Bells. _Even blind, there was no mistaking the giant shadow and roaring voice as belonging to anyone but Morgan, one of the most veteran Warden's and holding an overly personal vendetta to see me brought to 'justice'. The fact that he looked like he could break me in two without a second thought was never comforting, let alone when I was all but blind. "You will be found guilty of treason, Dresden, for attempting to subvert the council and consorting with a Fallen." _Oh...Fuck. _A moment later, the world went black, and Molly screamed.

I woke up in a soft bed, in a room painted a light blue. For a minute, my only thoughts were if this was how Wardens punished their own, I would have signed on years ago. Once my head cleared, I let out a curse. "Lash, piss off" I grumbled. I regretted it a moment later, as my muscles sudden screamed in protest as the pain flowed through them once more, my peaceful sanctuary suddenly transformed into a shabby storage cellar somewhere. A flickering light hung openly up above, and my arms were twisted behind my back, chained to a pipe that pressed uncomfortably against my back.

A moment later, Lash appeared, as beautiful as ever and completely out of place for the squalor I was imprisoned in. Long tanned legs crossed elegantly, her robe climbing high up her thigh until it pooled tantalizingly in her lap, provocative and erotic even despite my throbbing head and bleary eyes. She sat on a overstuffed chair that looked absurd in the cramped, dank space, but she maintained an air of indifference to her surroundings, as if such things were below her notice. She smiled, a beautiful image complete with full lips and 'come-hither' eyes. Her left hand played with a strand of dark brown hair. Everything about her screamed S_eductress._ Damn it all, but despite the throbbing pain the coursed through my body and the dread and my situation, I was getting hard just looking at her.

"Dearest Harry, really, all I offer you is a bit of comfort." Her voice was husky, a delicate pout crossing her features.

I growled, though even to me it sounded half hearted. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm kinda busy getting ready to die helplessly. If you've got a way to get us out of this, I'm all ears. If not, then leave me alone– it's your fault we're stuck here anyway." Great, my last moments on Earth were going to consist of me whining to a beautiful woman living inside my head. With any luck, I'd wake up in a straitjacket in a padded cell.

It was true enough, but I was more than a little surprised to see the look of shame that flickered across her face, if only for a second. An instant later, it was set in a hard scowl, dangerous and cold.

"Have you not told me, dear host, that we only have ourselves to hold accountable for our actions. Don't we after all, always have a _choice." _The last word sounded foul and bitter, and despite my desire to silence her, I stayed quiet, listening. "I do not want to die, my host…not when I have just started to discover who I truly am."

I've been an active wizard for a long time, and through it, I've been in more than a few unpleasant situations. You'd be surprised how many of those have in some way been due to my inability to call an upset and beautiful woman a liar. Call me old fashioned, but I refuse to call Chivalry dead – even if it's almost got me killed a time or two.

So even when said grieving woman was actually the shadow of a fallen angel and infamous for her talents to seduce souls into perpetual torment, I was still inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt. And Murphy thinks that she has a lot to deal with. The Chicago Police Department has nothing on me, Harry Dresden, Stereotypical Male Chauvinist.

"I'm sorry," I replied with a sigh. "Just kinda leaves a sour taste, after all the running around I've done for those bastards," I let out a harsh laugh. "Looks like they got their way after all."

Lash nodded, her face sympathetic. Then she continued, as if we'd never had the spat. "It is of course, impossible to escape as of yet. My own ability to call Hellfire has waned considerably, given the recent…separation between myself and Lasciel." Her voice is soft once more, seductive but not husky – almost resounding with genuine care. "Harry, let me help you, no strings attached. There's no reason you have to die for these idiots." She looks at me with a mix of pity and affection, and I can't help but stare back, obviously skeptical, but nonetheless intrigued. Beautiful women, it's a weakness, I tell ya.

She sighed. "If you won't believe me, at least consider this. Whether I am Lash or still a shadow of Lasciel, if you die, so must I. Even if my motives aren't entirely selfless, there ought not be doubt that I wish to see you escape this place unharmed." I nodded, my inner doubts slightly mollified, and began to fidget with the bonds that locked my limbs.

Lash said nothing more, and after a half hour of futile struggling I gave up, still exhausted after the beating I had apparently taken that rendered me unconscious. Suddenly another thought flashed through my head, one that would have shamed me for not thinking of earlier if I hadn't suddenly been filled with dread. _Molly. _What on earth had the Wardens done with her? An instant later, I was again trying in vain to loosen the manacles, thrashing wildly as I was ever eager to run and play the hero for a damsel in distress.

"Do not fear, my host." Lash immediately replied in a calm, soothing tone, this time clearly from within my head. "She is alright for the moment. Ramirez has insisted that she be questioned personally, that she might not play a role in your supposed betrayal."

I scowled. "Merlin and the council won't care. She'll be found guilty, nothing a single warden says will change that."

"Perhaps," Lash's voice calmed my thoughts. "But she is alive, and unharmed. If you are to rescue her as well, you must keep your wits, not simply charge forward without a plan."

Dammit, I hate it when women are not only stunningly beautiful, but right as well. Salt in the wound. But she's right, and I needed to conserve what little strength I have left, if we're to have any chance to get out of this.

For the first time, I take stock of the situation. I've been sloppy, a wizard should always scope out his surroundings before all else. Magic is a very powerful force, but a magic user is severely hampered if he tries to cast spells by the seat of his pants. Remember the seven P's: Proper prior planning prevents piss poor performance. So, observation it is.

My blasting rod and staff were gone, presumably being held by the council. My mother's pentacle was also missing, but my shield bracelet and my rings were all still in place – the wardens have gotten terribly sloppy lately. Of course, it doesn't help that a few years back, the council suffered a massive blow at the hands of the Red Court, an attack that all but destroyed the Council as a fighting force. The fact that I'm a warden after everything speaks volumes, but at least I'm a professional. Some of these kids that call themselves Wardens were still shitting their pants while I was fighting for my life against my former mentor. Still, that evil overlord list wasn't just for the bad guys – it stood for principals. It ought to be required reading. Thankfully, it's not, and for the first time this actually works to my advantage.

So I've got some defensive capabilities, and can pack one helluva onetime punch of kinetic energy. Of course, I'm suspected of being a fallen and a traitor, and if it's an execution, a good part if not all of the Senior Council will be there, including The Merlin himself, and my oldest friend and current Blackstaff of the Council, Ebenezer McCoy. No doubt The Merlin is going to let Morgan do the honors…in short, it'll take more than a few punches to get out of this mess.

Also of course, is the fact that I _am_, in fact, hosting a Fallen, or at least the shadow…former shadow…of one. Don't look at me, I've never said my situation was straightforward. Granted, I've haven't taken the coin, but the sigil alone will condemn me. Even if Ebenezar is sympathetic, he can't outright rescue me from my own execution, not this time anyway. And if I use hellfire to escape…assuming I get away with it, or that Lash can call enough to matter...I'll be cutting off any hope of reconciliation between us forever. Funny how at times like this, that saying about pots and kettles hits me with full force. _'Sir, you lied to me, hid things from me…that's wrong' _The voice in my head is cruel and mocking. Hell's Bells. I really, really don't want to die.

My life story was cut short by a creaking sound as the door opened, and my eyes snapped up, blinking stupidly at the sudden increase of light. Ramirez entered, saying nothing and looking at me with a gaze that's equal parts wariness and sympathy. Behind him, Morgan was absolutely _glowing. "_Your day of judgment has come." Morgan stated in what can best be described as an emotionless gloat. Despite everything, I couldn't help but roll my eyes and marvel at just how utterly typical he managed to be.

"You know Morgan, I know you're loving this, but isn't there just the _tiniest _chance that your fixation with your sword isn't a sign of something more serious...maybe overcompen-"

He snarled, and I swallowed the rest of my opinion. Ramirez's face flickered for a moment, before the grin slipped off and his face became to a stony mask. The grin never reached his eyes – I'm well and truly screwed.

Morgan stepped forward, his eyes always on me even as his hands unlocked the chains that held me against the wall. Roughly, he pulled me forward, and we stumbled out into the light, towards my death.

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd like a steak – a real steak, rare as hell. With a loaded baked potato. I don't want the salad, but you better not skimp on the bacon bits."

Morgan growled, pushing me roughly forward without a response. Right, first step when I get out of this mess, I'm writing my Congressman.


	2. Chapter 2

I staggered out of my makeshift cell into the open space of an abandoned warehouse. Rusting machinery and broken crates were piled against the wall, a sort of abstract symbol of my status – a once useful cog now pushed to the side, thoughtlessly thrown away. Light flickered down from large, industrial-sized windows, creating streaks of light that flickered across the open floor. A line of conveyor belts still stood, off to my left. Nothing that seemed to aid in any possible escape I might have to desperately try and improvise.

Of more immediate concern was the delegation of wardens that formed a half circle in the center of the building. As expected, The Merlin stood at the center, catching my eye and returning my furious glare with one utterly devoid of sympathy. I flinched, reflexively unwilling to allow myself to be drawn into a soul gaze. I wouldn't give the bastard that.

Ebenezar McCoy, staring sadly at me with old eyes. Luccio, my soon to be former Captain – her youthful femininity and wavy – _girly –_ brown hair at complete odds with the stony look that she wore like a mask. Inside I cringed – she was also going to be punished for this, for not noticing my treason under her watch. Still, I suppose as far as false accusations go, she was getting off pretty lightly, me being the one about to die and all. Still, the flash in her eyes left me feeling uncomfortably guilty.

Meyers and Carlton were there as well, both radiating a calm anger at my presence. Professionals though, both of them – they allowed none of it to show on their faces. Thankfully, the others from the senior council and a vast majority of the wardens were absent – if I did make an attempt to escape, it was wholly preferable that half the senior council was somewhere else.

So, to sum it up, without my greatest weapons, I was manacled in front of arguably the two most powerful wizards alive, one of whom was a designated assassin for the Council, and until today, I had thought knew me inside and out. I was also surrounded by five wardens, all dressed in identical grey cloaks. God help me, but I was a dead man anyway, what was a little more bluster?

"There are vampires out there, right now dressed up as Wardens killing practitioners." I growled, "Perfect chance to take them down, and you decided to have a go at me instead." Morgan's hand clamped down hard on my shoulder, and he hissed into my ear, demanding my silence. Morgan may be more pigheaded than Murphy on a bad day, but he's strong as an ox and always follows through on his word. Of course, I already _knew_ I was only leaving here feet first, so the threat was less awe-filling than usual.

"Fear not, Denarian" Merlin answered with just a tint of sarcasm, his voice like cold steel. "The White Court has been dealt with, you feeble attempt to force the council to walk into a trap foiled." Well..._that's _a pleasant last thought, not knowing if my brother and only relation is still among the living. My brother may be a slobbish, self-absorbed, man whore of a vampire, but he's _my _slobbish, self-absorbed, man whore...in a completely platonic and despite a few incidents around town, heterosexual way.

The Merlin's voice cuts through my thoughts once more. "The Council has found sufficient evidence to convict Harry Dresden, warden of the white council, as a Traitor to the Council and breaker of the Laws of Magic. Both are punishable only by death. The guilty party may now speak."

For a moment, I was tempted to do nothing. _Guilty Party _my ass. A better part of a decade working with the Chicago Police, and I've had my ear abused more than once with rants about proper procedure. Still, I figured I'd better get my two cents in before Morgan rammed his sword through my intestines.

"Let me guess." I snarked, full of piss and vinegar. "You don't expect me to talk, you expect me to die?" Amazing just how much death can make your balls grow. The entire group was clearly appalled, but I admit the undercurrent of confusion from The Merlin himself made me a bit peevish. Last word's of my life here, think you'd make an effort to pick up the joke! To hell with it, I was a dead man anyway. "As we seem to have skipped the whole innocent until proven guilty bit, I assume my lawyer couldn't quite make it either?" Morgan's hand once more applied a convincing level of pressure, and I shut up. And they say pacifism works...

"If the guilty party is finished," another pointed glare, "we shall move forward. You will remove the glove."

Cold terror shot through me. Irrational and illogical, but a tiny part of me had continued to hope that they had no tangible proof, and maybe, just maybe the wouldn't find it. All bets were off, and I had once more gotten the shitty end of the stick. My arms were unlocked, and Morgan wrenched them forward, locking them once more – though now in front of my body, a slightly more comfortable position. Such comfort was lost the moment Morgan peeled off my glove as I stood there, rigid and helpless. Morgan's eyes widened with shock – seems even the most die hard of followers still take it badly when such a sight becomes open knowledge, even if they've personally never doubted it. As Morgan grasped my shriveled hand and held it aloft, I offered no struggle. I kept my eyes down - I didn't dare look towards Ebenezar – to see his disgust would have been worse than the death that was to come.

_Host! Now is the time to flee – all is not lost. _Lash's voice rang through my head, soft and desperate, and I felt power Hellfire trickle through my veins. I clamped down on it, banishing Lash from my conscience. I had damned myself, but I'd be damned twice more before I killed people – even these pigheaded bastards – especially for doing the same thing I would have done in their shoes.

Or so I thought. "Harry Dresden is found guilty of betraying the Council, and consorting with a Fallen. The punishment is death by the sword, to be carried out today. Also, Molly Carpenter, apprentice of Harry Dresden, is found guilty of consorting with a Denairan, for deliberate interfering with justice, and accepting aid from a Denarian to escape a prior sentence of death by the sword. The punishment is death by the sword, to be carried out today."

Oh _Hell's Bells_. Great big hairy...bells. I hadn't expected anything else, but it had festered at the back of my mind, killing me inside a little at a time. Now...It was pushed to the fore, the terrible sight I was forced to witness.

Molly was shackled just as I was, though unlike me her arms remained behind her back. Her legs were also manacled together, just loose enough to allow her to walk forward, though she was stumbling due to the guards' quick pace. At any other time, the combination and what it did to her breasts would have been the stuff Bob, my resident spirit of knowledge and self-described sexmaniac, would trade another century of servitude for.

There was nothing at all pleasant though about what she was forced to endure. Her body shivered, not-so-silent sobs racking her frame. One of her two guards was a pimply faced kid who couldn't be much older than her, and was openly leering at the condemned girl. At least Luccio appeared to have enough integrity to be openly disgusted. Molly's normally pleasant face was covered in a black sack, just as she'd been forced to wear to her first trial. This time though, there would be no last minute reversal of fortunes – no Knight of God or Summer Lady to come to the rescue. Just a gangly wizard who'd fucked up one time too many.

"Ventas Servitas!" I growled, thrusting my hands into Morgan's side as I did so. He slammed backward, flying across the room and crashing awkwardly into a rusty pile of junk. Suddenly, I was _pumped. _Iwas the Michael Jordan of Wizards. Everything was suddenly moving in slow motion times one hundred. Hell, half the wardens hadn't seemed to recognize what had just happened yet – the sudden shock only just revealing itself on The Merlin's face. Ha, take that you so called know-it-all!

_Dearest, now is not the time for gloating. I am prepared to assist you, but we must act now. _Ah, right – of course Lash was responsible for this newfound and, to be fair, cool as hell ability. _Hell's Bells Lash, way to scare a guy. So what's the plan now – I'm fresh out of ideas, and as you've probably noticed, not really sporting any heavy equipment. Not a big fan of blowing myself to bits._.. Completely as an afterthought, _and what's going on, anyway?_

Lash sighed within my head, clearly impatient. Too bad I'm so damned stubborn. _I've sped up your mental thought processes. This conversation is taking place within a fraction of a second. But host! Harry! There is not time for this right now, however short it may be. Let me help you, I can assist in maintaining you mental focus long enough that you should remain relatively unharmed._

_So...rock and a hard place, huh... and how relative is relatively? _Lash didn't respond, though I felt a ripple of pleasure run down my spine that was too good to not be evil. Sneaky bitch, trying to play me like that. Worked though.

"_Fuego," _I shouted, projecting a confidence that went far beyond optimistic. I felt the liquid heat of Hellfire run through my blood, and this time, I did nothing to hold it back. The air suddenly stank of sulfur, and a great cone of fire roared to life, bursting outwards from my palms.

Even with Lash's assistance, the heat was all but unbearable. The intense prickling of heat brought up painful memories that only added a level of burning terror to my situation. Not long ago, an ancient vampire had discovered my shield bracelet did nothing to protect my body from heat, and had used this weakness against me, all but turning my left hand to ash. It had survived, and thanks to my magic was slowly...painfully slowly, regenerating – but the fear of fire was still something I had to deal with. Now though, wasn't that time.

A thick smoke filled the room, and someone let out a shrill scream - presumably my aim was truer than I had intended – figures. I had no idea who I'd hit, as within my seconds-long window, I had only one goal – get to grasshopper. Without thinking, I ran towards where I had last seen Molly being held captive. I may not be the strongest or most powerful of wizards, but I can move it when I need to. I run a lot, so that when I need to run, I'm faster than the other guy. Combined with my height and skinny frame, I can really gun it when I need to.

In the few seconds it took me to reach Molly, I hauled more ass than a playboy in Vegas.

With all the grace and skill or an epileptic rhino, I plowed into one of her wardens, slamming him into the concrete floor. He let out a weak groan, and a large part of me hoped it was the pimpled asshole who'd been leering earlier. Molly shrieked, and I grabbed her arm a moment before her other guard could move her away. Scrambling back onto my feet, I thrust my foot into the fallen warden's stomach once more for good measure, before yanking Molly hard towards me. For a few frantic seconds we struggled, before I successfully wrestled her away from the other warden. Poor bastard – he may have had a grey cloak, but I'd wager I've been in more less-that-fair fights than he ever had. Lesson the first: Knee to the balls is a great way to make someone let go of whatever they're holding.

Molly's a great kid – heart of gold. I like to think that I would have helped out anyone that had been in her position, but truthfully, I'm not that guy. Chivalrous to a fault perhaps, but I've been under the Council's Doom before, and I wouldn't have gone under it again just for anyone, no matter how disdainful I might be about it verbally. Irony really kicked my in the balls now that it was my actions that had gotten us sentenced to be executed, and not my apprentice's.

But, good as she may be, she's not a first-string fighter. Her manipulation of magic is far more sensitive than mine – a dancer or gymnast to my sumo wrestler. She could do things with magic that I would never be able to, but the quick improvisation and brute force that one needs in battle – she lacked. Worse than day time television lacks talent. To make matters worse, she was currently bound and blinded, and a terrified girl who had now nearly been executed by the same group of old men for the second time in a year.

In case it wasn't clear, she wasn't going to be much help in the here and now unless I did something about it.

Holding her close, I crawled under the relative safety of one of the rusting conveyer belts. "Molly...Molly!" I whispered frantically. I'd first attacked Morgan not even a minute ago, and already my plan was unraveling. The Wardens were blowing the smoke away – not as quickly as the might like within the stagnant confines of the warehouse, but quick enough that I wouldn't have a chance for the doors. "Molly, can you hear me?" I called out, trying to sound soothing. Forcing back a sob, she nodded once, shivering against my body and tightening her hold on my arms. "Grasshopper, I need you to put up a veil. I need a little more time and then we'll be out of here in two shakes. C'mon...this is what we signed up for right? A little adventure."

Apparently, I'm hopeless with women. That was completely the wrong thing to say, if her muffled sobs and sudden cutting off of my air were any indication. Obviously, my gift of gab was less than stellar, so I settled for rubbing her back in soft, hopefully soothing motions. All the time, the increased panic was threatening to take over at the hopelessness of our situation.

Still, one doesn't survive as Harry Dresden without being able to pull a trick or two out of his ass from time to time. Wiggling one arm out of Molly's strangling embrace, I triggered one of the rings on my right hand, aiming randomly at the other side of the building. With a flick, I sent a blast of kinetic energy hurtling across the room, the sound of splintering wood my only way of knowing that I'd blown up a crate or two. Perfect.

Muffled curses came from all around us, but even with this latest distraction, time was perilously close to running out. "Grasshopper. Veil now, and I'll never ask you about your goddamned beads again." At long last, I was rewarded with a tiny giggle, filled with terror but lacking the hysteria that had once rolled off of her in waves. She let me go ever so slightly, taking deep, hushed breaths. She paused, and a moment later I let out a quiet sigh of relief, tension leaving my body as I felt the tingle of magic just as the veil went up. With enough time, the council would realize we'd gone under a veil, and would use measures to counteract it. Still, it bought us a little more time, and a boost of confidence we sorely needed.

By the stars, I wasn't about to go down now! Round one – Harry and Friends!

_Well done, my host, _came the relieved voice of Lash from inside my head. _A little less violent than would have suited my tastes, and tuning hellfire for more smoke and less actual fire, while ingenious, seems distasteful. _Right...tuning...of course. And...Hell's Bells, that was less fire than expected? _Sorry to disappoint, _I snapped back. Lash laughed, rich and joyful, and I felt myself encompassed in a ...pleasing embrace.

Her voice was deep and sensuous. _You seem tense, dear host. Is it that you fear death...or perhaps it's been so long since you've felt a woman's touch, and the girl's...proximity...brings forth unwanted thoughts. _A pair of arms entwined my waist from behind, moving downward with a tantalizing slowness. I was frustrated, and truthfully scared as hell, angrily shrugging off the nonexistent touch. _Middle of a battle here, not exactly an easy way out. Unless you've got a deus-ex-machina up your ass, maybe you can keep quiet for a minute._ Inside my own head, I was fuming.

Even before she says anything, I feel her spirit somber. _My apologies, my host. I do not wish to offend, nor make light of your situation. _Then, she laughs once more before continuing, her voice projecting a confidence and light heart. _Harry, precious host – though I __**am **__as close to a god as you will ever know... _She paused, and I could feel the glee that bubbled inside her, _it is you yourself, dearest, who holds the deus-ex-machina you are searching for. Your pocket. _

I frowned, confused as to what game Lash was playing now. She's always been friendly and helpful to a fault, though how much is genuine and how much is an act to damn my soul, I've never been sure. Molly hadn't noticed what was going on – all her energies now focused on maintaining the veil and holding her own panic at bay. Curiously, I fumbled through my duster pockets, before I felt a cool, metallic touch.

Hell's. Bells. Deus-ex-machina indeed. Clenched in my fist with a force worthy of the lifesaving device it was, I held the golden oak cluster given to me by Lily, the Summer Lady for my dubious assistance to the Summer Faerie Court. It allowed me to once, and only once, call upon the assistance of said Fae.

"Well" I whispered to myself. "Now would be a really good time to call in a favor." I had never been told exactly how to activate it, but I've worked with Fae – Winter, Summer, and Wylde – enough to know the basic principles on which they operated. Still speaking quietly to avoid detection, I simply said "I ask for safe passage for myself and my apprentice, to my threshold."

The oak leaf felt hot in my hand before suddenly disappearing into thin air. An instant later, a pleasant warmth filled the warehouse. The smoke was all but gone, tiny wisps still floating through the air but doing little to obstruct the view. The new warmth was nothing like the unpleasant heat of Hellfire, and the rancid smell of sulfur was suddenly replaced with the pleasing odor of wildflowers. None of this gave me a fraction of the joy than did the sudden portal in front of me – a tiny rip in the fabric of this world, leading into the Nevernever – home of Demons, Fae, Ghosts, and a host of other supernatural entities. Normally, visiting that place filled me with nervousness and apprehension. Now, I couldn't be happier if the Cubs won the World Series, while the Red Court unanimously decided that I was actually a pretty decent guy and not at all worthy of being murdered.

"Alright grasshopper, here's our stop. Say goodbye to all our friends." Without giving her a moment to respond. I rolled us forward, into the open space between our conveyor belt and the next, and half-leaped-half-stumbled into the Nevernever.

For a moment, I just laid still, enjoying the soft ground in stark contrast to the dirty concrete we had left behind. Slowly, I stood up, brushing off my clothes and helping Molly onto her feet. Our...location, for want of a better word, was for all appearances a private garden. The grass was trimmed, but lush and an almost unnatural shade of green. Flowers and shrubbery grew in a kind of prearranged randomness, a garish collection of hues and color that despite everything, seemed to foster an atmosphere of tranquility. My ears picked up the faint trickle of running water, though I couldn't see its source. To our right, a stone path crossed the open space we had landed in, and as my eyes followed its course, it seemed that this garden expanded far off into the unnaturally clear horizon.

The Nevernever is...a world of it's own, really. It doesn't follow the same rules as ours – science doesn't exist here in any meaningful way, though the two are connected. Every point on Earth touches some point of the Nevernever, though time and space flow independently in each, and its more than likely that two nearby parts back home could be miles apart here. Even within the Nevernever, time seems to slow down or speed up on its own whim. It's confusing, and usually when I visit, I have more pressing emergencies than trying to figure it all out. This garden could very well go on almost endlessly, all while being a half step away from another part of the greater Nevernever. It's enough to make you give up thinking and just go eat a Whopper instead. At least _they _let me have it my way.

I stood up, stretching my hands over my head when suddenly I stopped, puzzled. Logically, I should have realized earlier, but the urgency of the moment had shut off any rational thoughts not directly linked to escape. Now though, I noticed something I hadn't before – the links connecting the shackles on my arms and legs had been completely seared, a perfect line straight down the middle, the mettalic ends molten together as if by some superfine welding. _Lash, _I asked, suddenly anxious, t_hat hellfire trick of yours...that did this right? There is nothing at all unusual or unexplained going on. _

Lash appeared before me, as if she wanted to examine the severed manacles for herself. It was unnecessary, as her own senses were tied directly to mine, but I was comforted by her seemingly physical presence. Perhaps that's why she did it – wouldn't be the first time she knew my subconscious better than I did. They talked to each other behind my back, literally.

"Dear Host, this is...disturbing, to say the least. It is well within my power – and yours, with my help – to do this, but at the time, we were otherwise occupied. Some other power was at play." She frowned, still studying my manacles. "It would be prudent to discover this unknown entity." She continued, before looking into my eyes, a coy smile gracing her face. I was in no threat of a soul gaze – even had she been real, you can only soul gaze if you in fact possess a soul, which I would do well to remember that Lash did not. Still, the unearthly beauty on top of this powerful creature's sudden unease...it doesn't do much for a guy's comfort level. I looked away.

"Right" I mumbled aloud, earning a look from Molly. "We'll figure this out later." Shaking my head clear of Lash's musings, I turned once more to my apprentice, and in a voice filled with a wizardly confidence, continued. "Next stop, Chicago. C'mon kid, time's a wastin'." She nodded, still not uttering a word, before looking helplessly at her manacles. Shit.

"Right." I said slowly, my sudden burst of enthusiastic forwardness giving way to a slight embarrassment. "What I'm about to do, you will never, _ever_ – under any circumstances, no matter how terrible – talk about. With anyone. At anytime. Are we clear?"

Without my blasting rod or staff, even with Lash's help I wouldn't dare try to break her chains. Hell, even with them, I'd have to be a lot dumber to do it in any situation that wasn't out-and-out dire. Really, I was only left with once choice...though I doubt Charity would have seen it that way.

Finally Molly nodded, hesitantly. I stepped forward, and then with a burst of speed, picked her up and threw her over my shoulder, ignoring her indignant squeak and her furiously wiggling bum now scant inches from my face. Staring firmly forward , I began to walk with long, purposeful strides. I wasn't perfect...and Bob would kill me if I didn't sneak a quick peek every now and then. Besides, I lived with Lash full-time, I was perfectly capable of resisting temptation. Really.


	3. Chapter 3

The third time I passed through the same grassy clearing with the invisible water source, I was more than a little annoyed. Molly had stopped her thrashing, the previous fear waning down and slowly being replaced with a sort of sullen embarrassment. She's not a big girl, but she sure as hell wasn't what one would call _petite_. Carrying her for the better part of a half hour over my shoulder was quickly becoming an unbearable task, and more and more likely pointless, as with my sluggish speed and constant inability to apparently walk in a straight line, we'd be better off with her stumbling along with me. With a frustrated sigh, I dropped her onto the ground, falling down next to her.

"Harry..." Molly's shy whisper brought me out of my private rant. "I think we've passed this spot before."

"Grasshopper, I knew there's a reason I keep you around," I snarked, though without any bite whatsoever. "Who the hell knows where we are, by the time we get out of here..." I cut myself off, no need to remind the girl who'd just escaped death that if we wasted any more time, my house might very well be crawling with Wardens. By the look of fear that swept over her face, she'd gotten it anyway. Good going, Dresden. Why not use the time to point out she's not going to be able to see her home for the foreseeable future?

"Dammit!" I ranted, eager to vent my frustration anywhere but at myself. "The agreement was to get me home, not play hide-and-seek with the funny wizards!"

A chuckle came from behind, an odd mix of amusement and nervousness. "Fix", I replied deadpan, turning slowly. "Good of you to show up."

"Hey...easy now Harry, you know I'd never screw with you." As I continued to remain silent, pinning him with a wizardly stare, he began to look uneasy, shifting ever so slightly. "Well, not intentionally, anyway."

After a moment, I nodded. I had first met Fix a few years back, when he'd been a skinny kid always looking like he wanted to be as far away from the action as possible. His heart turned out to be made of stronger stuff, and he'd pulled his weight in a battle to save his friend, a changeling named Lily, from certain death when the Faerie courts went to war. Said friend had gone on to become the Summer Lady, not least because I'd helped to slay the former. She in turn, had seen the man behind the kid and made him the Summer Knight.

Fix had changed since then – the mantle of Knighthood had made him more confident, and he'd bulked up a bit – though he'd never be described as anything more than slender. He wasn't...handsome, but he carried himself with a new dignity and for want of a better word, _power. _Still, despite or odd friendship, he was bound to his court, and that didn't always play in my favor.

"So", I said finally "You're the one who got me out of there. I suppose I owe you a thank you, even if it took you a while to catch up." He nodded, giving me a flashing smile as the tension dropped from the air around us.

"It's really Lily who pulled the strings, but I'll pass on the sentiment," he said, before continuing – obviously trying hard to keep the cool mask of confidence in place. It's funny really, just how much I seem to flummox the poor kid. "Thing is though, certain...folks in Summer aren't to pleased with you, and there's already talk that saving your life back there went beyond the debt owed and signified in the medallion."

I paused, utterly gobsmacked. I've always known that dealing with Faerie is more often than not a lose-lose situation, but this...this was a bit much. "You're kidding, right?" I asked, getting more than a little pissed off. "In case you forgot, I led a raid on _Arctis Tor. _Winter's stronghold, forced her armies to retreat from your border...any of this ringing any bells?" Ok, I hadn't done it exactly like that, but that was the end result.

"Hey man, I didn't say I was one of them...just that some people are saying it. You know me Harry, you're number one fan." I snorted, taking a distinct pleasure in his awkwardness. "And Lily...she's not forgotten what you did for her, she's not like that. But...anyway, she had me watching you since your capture, see if there was anything I might be able to do. The medallion gave me the excuse I needed."

"Well," I responded, faking a level of enthusiasm I normally reserve for difficult clients. "That's just dandy. Let's throw in say...the half hour of my time you've wasted and call it even. IKinda a wanted man here – not a lot of time for a chat."

Fix laughed, again – a disconcerting sound. "This is my own private...place, I guess. Came with the Knighthood. The river of time is almost stagnant here – reduced to a trickle you can just barely hear. Let's a guy...have a place to relax for a bit even while on the job, so to speak."

"You know Fix," I drawled, far to annoyed to pass up the opportunity. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't think you're really my type." And then as an afterthought, "and she," I continued, pointing to Molly, "better not be yours either." The satisfaction of watching the pair of them turn bright red was almost enough to relieve the complete nightmare of the day...almost.

"So, why don't we cut the bullshit, and you tell me what's really going on. I've got too much crap on my plate to play games today."

Fix paused, for a moment showing a flicker of the cool detachment to simple moral life and death that seems characteristic of both Knights I've met. A moment later, he nodded, though I decided to keep my mouth shut – no need to sustain further injury for having a big mouth.

"Alright Harry, no problem...no problem at all. Basically, it's all a little complicated, but Lily was able to justify '_moving you whimsically from one place to another, a tiny favor in exchange for your aid to Summer' _because you're the closest thing we have to an ally in the winter camp, and you might be...willing to help if our little favor happened to also save your life." He finished in one breath, and continued without giving me time to say a few choice words about what Lily could do with her so-called favors.

"I know Harry, believe me, I realize it sucks. But we can talk about it, get it all under the bridge. Like I tried to say before...before you uh...well, time doesn't really move here – we'll have you back home just minutes after you crossed over. And hey, it's all technicalities right? You promise that you'll help us out when we need you, and I'll make sure that nobody finds out that I kinda reversed the order of the paperwork..."

He cut himself off...no doubt the fury that was threatening to burst from within me had something to do with it. "I like to think I'll help you because you're my friend, and not because I've been suckered into a bargain," I hissed with a cold fury reminiscent of the other court. And speaking of which, "And secondly, I'm not like you Fix – I've refused the Winter Knighthood, and any other influence in Winter. I'm my own man." Again, true enough...for the most part.

Fix hesitated, before giving me another shaky smile. "Of course Harry, didn't mean it that way...just that you know people over there, and they don't want you dead...and like you said, we're friends. We know you wouldn't just leave us hanging in a pinch. And anyway, I'm taking you _to _your threshold, not _through _it – it's not as if I'm taking you somewhere particularly safe...and hey, what are friends for?"

I tuned out his rambling, turning instead to Molly. "Alright kid, looks like we're done here. Let's get going." Molly nodded, taking my hand as she struggled to get up around her manacles.

"Hey, let me get those." Before I could utter a word, Fix crossed the distance, cutting both sets of chains with an expert's precision. Molly squeaked, but all in all held herself together in the face of a stranger swinging a big ass sword in front of her. Good kid.

"Thanks," I sighed, "Appreciate it, but I'd rather get back home – got a few things to do before I've gotta hit the road again." Fix nodded, moving forward before stopping for a second and almost meeting my eyes. It was the closest we could get without starting a soul gaze – something I think both of us didn't want to consider then and there. "We're cool, right? I mean... if hypothetically the Summer Court was to have offended you earlier, you aren't offended anymore."

I grinned, tiredly but truthfully. Despite everything, Fix was still the same gawky kid with what I liked to imagine was a bit of a hero-complex towards me. A little respect...just a little bit. But underneath it, he was giving us both a way out, and I took it. "Yeh," I responded, "I hold no grudge against Summer."

Fix's face lightened up like a kid at Christmas. "Right then, friends it is...now let's get you home."

With a newfound determination, we began walking down the stone path once more. Still, patience only goes so far, and if I had to pass this place on more time, Fix and I were gonna have words...

Fortunately, for Fix, it never came to that. The garden that went on forever ended about five minutes down the suddenly linear path. The scenery itself changed very little – we were still obviously in the Summer held territory in Faerie. Giant trees with exotic looking fruits stood imperiously along the trail, while the ground was covered in colorful flowers – as if some sugar high four year old had been put in charge of landscaping. However, suddenly the place felt more...alive. This was no longer a private hideaway – things lived in the darkness where the vegetation was thick enough to choke the sunlight. A faint sense of unease made me feel I was being watched, and I was for the first time truly thankful that we had an escort.

It's a common mistake amongst young wizards to try and categorize the Faerie as 'good' or 'bad'. The Seelie and Unseelie Courts – more commonly known as Summer and Winter respectively – are aptly named both for their particular magics, as well as their general tendencies. Winter is cold, unforgiving – breathtakingly beautiful in its mercilessness. Summer, tends to be warmer, more hospitable – outwardly, at least.

In my experience – and I've had a lot of it, with regards to the Fae – they're both equally pragmatic and manipulative of us mortals, it's just that Winter is much more straightforward about it. There were creatures in both courts that would kill me without a second thought, and my earlier conversation with Fix showed that even those that wouldn't kill me themselves had very little concern about my overall wellbeing.

We came to a halt just before a bridge – more ornamental than practical, just crossing a tiny trickle of water – and Fix turned back around, breaking the silence for the first time since we had left the garden.

"We'll cross back over just around the corner from your flat. We make sure it's safe, and then you gun it to the threshold." When we weren't in direct conflict, it was easy to see why Lily had made him her Knight – deep inside, there was a 'can-do' attitude just waiting to be released. "Alright," I responded, "Ready, grasshopper?"

She nodded. Poor kid, hardly said a word since the shit hit the fan. I almost miss the back chat. Still, nothing to worry about now – I wasn't at my best right after I'd been forced to fight for my life for the first time, and even now, it takes a lot out of ya.

Fix opened up the portal back to the mortal world, and I took a moment to appreciate the skill with which he did it. Whenever I may a door between worlds, I basically take the hack-and-slash approach, just making a rip in the fabric that keeps the two separate. I'm not incompetent...I've yet to unwittingly release a troll or ogre or any other nasty, but I'm not at all graceful with it. I've seen Fae open doors that could be considered works of art in the skill that goes into it. Fix looked like a professional athlete – pragmatic, yet with a grace and easy laziness that made what I knew first hand to be a challenging task for even a powerful wizard look easy.

Yep, at the end of the day, Fix was someone I needed to keep half an eye on. A wizard always has to be prepared...the last thing you want is to have your pants down and sitting on the can when a powerful magical being decides to stick it to you. Things like that can quickly ruin your day.

Two minutes later, we were running like madmen, rushing towards my door. Fix hadn't seen or felt anything out of place, and I hadn't lived as long as I had by not having a good gut instinct about these sort of things. The three of us crashed down the stairs leading to my door, stopping at my threshold.

"Alright Harry...you uh, take care." Fix mumbled, before offering me his hand. "Yeah," I replied, "you too." We stood for a second at the edge of my threshold, before Fix turned around and in one motion, bolted back up the stairs that led down to my flat, and a moment later was out of sight.

Taking a deep breath, I put my hand on the door. Neither Fix nor I had noticed anything odd in the thirty seconds it had taken to close the distance to my door, but then, if there _was_ a nasty lurking around the corner., odds were fifty-fifty it would be able to hide from me. And me without a gun or blasting rod to my name...

A final pause, and I threw the door open, jumping a mile high when I was rammed in the legs, overbalancing and hitting into the wall.

"Fucking cat..." I muttered, embarrassment replacing my fear. "Scare me shitless why don't you." Molly came in, still silent, looking up at me expectantly.

"Right then," I said, hopefully in a tone that was full of cool competency and not at all still a little breathless from the recent panic attack. "Here's the deal kid – Fix reckons that with the loop-de-loop thing time does in the Nevernever, we hightailed it out of our Council-sponsored Hellhole about five minutes back. So, you've got two minutes – get whatever you need, and then we're gone." Without letting her respond, I crossed my impeccably clean living room, throwing the rugs back and opening up a trapdoor leading to my subbasement.

I felt a wave of sadness at the thought of leaving this place behind for the foreseeable future. It's not much of a home really, if my lack of a strong threshold is anything to go by. But at the end of the day, it was _mine. _Not to mention, it's got character. The building I live in is old – surviving through a number of Chicago's infamous fires. The floor boards creak and shift, and the draft is less than pleasant...not to mention my magic preventing any of the electronic comforts most people take for granted. Still, it has a personality you don't find in the mass of cookie-cutter houses these days, and my little basement apartment – filled with its haphazard collection of rugs and odds and ends - make it undeniably Dresden.

As I climbed down into my laboratory, I took a quick look around at what I would have to leave around. Very little down here was sentimental, but it was all useful, and it was pissing me off that I'd have to leave most of this behind. Still, valuables only. Maybe if the Council ever realized their mistake while simultaneously forgetting about my less than peaceful escape, I'd ask about reimbursement.

"Bob! Wake up, we've got trouble." I growled, all while rummaging through a pile of dusty tomes. My laboratory is incredibly organized, everything labeled and compartmentalized, but it houses several hundred pounds of books, journals dating back to the beginning of my magical training, two tables, a tiny desk for Molly, and god knows how many boxes and jars filled with anything I ever needed or could potentially find useful in the future. So while I was organized, _neat and tidy _just didn't quite fit.

"Right, let me guess," Bob drawled through a yawn. "You've finally decided to take me up on my offer to tutor you in the ways of obtaining female companionship." Bob is my resident genius – a spirit of intellect that lives inside a human skull. As I can't use a computer – too many sensitive bits for me to blow up – I've got Bob. Also one of the few beings in the fucked up world of ours I'd actually call my friend – and that list seems to get shorter all the time...

"Is this really pick on Harry day? First Lash, now you – do I really appear that desperate?" I looked up, Bob's eyes flashing as the skull's mouth began to open. "Don't answer that," I mumbled, picking up an old backpack and shoving some of my more...private notebooks into it. "But no, this is more Trouble with a capital T, rhymes the P...Wardens think I'm the traitor they're after, and I kinda blew a few things up escaping. We're out of here."

"Wow...holy crap! Life is never dull around you, is it Harry Dresden?" Bob grew pensive. "You're taking me with you, of course? Wouldn't be the first time I got pulled out of a burning house, but I'd rather not go through it all again."

I didn't bother rolling my eyes, instead debating on whether to throw in Molly's journals. After a minute, I added them to my sack. I might have gotten her almost killed, but damned if I was gonna let her studies slide too. "Bob, course you're coming. Where else would I get my daily levels of shock and disgust."

"A point." Bob conceded, sounding decidedly relieved. "So...what are we gonna do about _that."_

I looked up at Bob, then followed his eyes. "Shit...yeah, about that. Any ideas?" I stared stupidly at Little Chicago, a massive scaled model of the city I had been working on, and an absolutely ingenious way of tracking someone through the greater Chicago area. It was also extremely dangerous, storing enough magic that should anything go wrong, there wouldn't be much of the laboratory left.

"Well..." Bob responded, and I got the sinking feeling that his plan would be less than perfect. "On the plus side, blowing it sky high would deny the council the use of anything here at all, and that's a good thing, right?" I winced internally, yep – less than perfect.

"So," Bob continued, happily oblivious to my desire _not _to blow up half my net worth in a single moment, even if I was taking a temporary leave of absence for reasons of surviving. "Last I recall, you had a hefty supply of battery acid left over from that miserable abortion of yours. What was it again, my memory seems to have failed me?"

I growled. "Bob, you do realize this isn't a game, don't you? Literally, we have another minute and a half before we're out of here, or else we might never get the chance to come back...and furthermore, a potion to make my blood acidic to vampires could be really really useful." I'm brilliant at multitasking, the whole retort delivered while tyeing up a number of my carving tools. This wasn't the first time my staff and rod had been lost, stolen, or blown to itty bitty pieces. I have the tools, I have the technology...to rebuild my most basic survival weapons for the umpteenth time.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't keep that stick in your ass for too long. Anyway, what can I do boss? Always eager to help."

For a moment, I didn't answer, my eyes locked onto the corner of my basement covered in newly laid concrete. Underneath it, trapped physically by the floor and magically by the circle I'd placed around it, lay the damned coin of Lasciel, the source of this mess and, for the low low price of my soul, a very powerful way out of it. _I'm not going to take it Lash. Not now, not ever._

Lash responded, though she didn't manifest herself physically – either in my head or before me. _I have said nothing, dear host. As usual, I suspect you shall do what you must – nothing more._

I frowned, slightly put off by her neutrality and general...lack of pretty much anything. Lash is a passionate creature – how could she be anything less as an angel of seduction? For her to sound like a female Mac was nothing short of strange, and not a little disturbing. Filing the thought and turning away from the coin, I looked over at Little Chicago, and just as quickly my feelings changed once more, this time with elation.

With an exaggerated flair, I leaned over the miniature city, reaching out and grabbing a random apartment block. Snapping it out of its brace, I plucked it out of the city, tucking the tiny casting into my bag. Quickly, I did the same for a dozen other completely unmemorable sites around the city. Then, tossing the bag down, I wrenched up Wrigley field with both hands, and put it on the table. I did the same thing to both the Sears and Hancock Towers, as well as St. Mary of the Angel's and the Chicago Museum. I hunted through the box I'd last remembered seeing the battery acid, and almost whooped with glee when I pulled it out and just sloshed the thing all over the table, like a child with a paint can. "There you go, you bastards try using my baby now." Despite everything, I didn't do the evil laugh – that thing is a guarantee for an asskicking.

Instead, I turned back to Bob. "Sorry? You were saying...something about being useful?"

Bob grumbled. "Well, there's always the boring way of doing a job, and here I thought you wanted a little excitement in your life. Aren't you always whining when things get dead around here?"

"Dead...yes. But not _dead _dead, which is what we're all about to be. Let's go." I hoisted the two backpacks I'd managed to fill to bursting point onto my back, one over each shoulder. Then, I picked up Bob's skull, putting it in the special sack I have on hand for such an occasion. "Right then, away we go."

"Harry! The books, the books! Precious knowledge – you can't just leave it here for those filthy philistines – they wouldn't know a literary masterpiece if it wore a skirt and offered to blow them."

I sighed. I realized we were in a hurry, but I knew the contents of the basement more or less by heart – I wouldn't forget anything important. "Bob, it's fine. I've got my most important notebooks, I've got my Warden's Journal – despite just about gosh-darned everything, and I've got you. We're not exactly packing for a vacation in Rio. This is more of a Wardens-on-our-asses-run-away-quick kinda getaway."

"Oh right, you packed _The Journal. _Great dusty thing, never mind I've got the whole thing memorized..." Bob tsked, an impressive achievement for a being without a tongue or lips. "No...you complete idiot! I don't give a pint of piss about your little diary. Harry! You're leaving _Brandi's Summer Fun_ to that incompetent gang of twats! Harry, none of those decrepit old pervs have had a sex drive in centuries! They can't possible appreciate such art!"

Ignoring the fact that it was Bob of all creatures calling someone a pervert, I quashed my irritation – Bob is far too useful an ally and dare I say it, good a friend to get upset over, even with the absurdity of our situation. Sullenly, I threw the romance novel in question into my bag, a second later adding an old addition of _Playboy_ before closing the bag with a final _zip_. Bob's eyes glimmered for a moment, and I swore I could see him grinning.

We went up, and thankfully, Molly was already waiting for us. A really good time for her to start following my orders to the word. "Alright kid, got everything you need?"

She nodded, before finally, _finally _putting more than two words together. "None of my stuff is at your place anyway, so I packed a few days worth of clothes for you, and some food and stuff. I ugh...didn't go anywhere private, so if there's something else you want, you better go get it."

Well...oh Hell. Suddenly, I was immensely grateful that I'd decided to take her notebooks with us, however useless they may have been in the big scheme of things. At least it was _something. _"Right, thanks Molly," I replied, embarrassed. "We'll uh...pick up some stuff for you along the way, first thing – I promise." Molly nodded, looking a little like a lost puppy looking for a hug. Hell's Bells, but I'm just not that guy. So instead, I went with the next best thing. "Go stand by the door, I've got a few things to get and then we're out. And grasshopper?" She looked up expectantly, and hell – the kid deserved it.

"You did good today. A little more polish, a bit more time with yours truly, and you're gonna make one hell of a wizard." I gave her a tight grin, but she absolutely beamed at the compliment. _Beamed. _Kids...who can figure them out?

I went into my cramped kitchen space, going over to my icebox. It's the real thing – again, with my... electricity accidents – complete with a giant block of actual ice. I hadn't been lying entirely, I did need to pick up a few things, namely the bottles of Mac's home brew I had left. He'd kill me if he found out I chilled them, and he'd kill me twice if he found out I'd left them behind when only taking 'valuable possessions.' Most importantly, as soon as I had two seconds to sit down and breathe, I couldn't think of anything I'd rather have. If I had to leave my local haunts for a while, I'd ration that beer tight...tighter than a stripper's jeans. And Hell's Bell's, I need to get out more...

"Bob" I hissed, "still up for being useful." A grumpy cough came out of the sack.

"I think we've exhausted any humor in that concept." Bob responded, a little peeved. "I am _always _useful. And...this sack scratches."

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. "I don't care about your itchy sack...oh, grow up. You wanna get out of there or not?" At the possibility of leaving the skull, Bob's titters stopped abruptly. "What's the deal boss?" he asked, the epitome of respect.

"Get inside Mister, make sure he gets in the car – I'm not leaving him to the goonsquad. Same rules as always, you get back in the skull when I tell you, and you don't alert Molly to your presence. Agreed?"

"Yeh, yeh, no problem boss. So...I have your permission to come out?" Bob asked, suddenly sounding a little giddy. "Yeah, with the conditions above, you have my permission." I responded. An instant later, a tiny orange spark flew out of the bag, zipping out and hovering for a moment around my head. "Think the little cupcake will be up for a game of _pet the pussy?_" his voice whispered, a strange experience coming from a being that now had no visible mouth.

"Bob" I growled, but he ignored me, streaking out of the room towards my thirty pound beast-cat. "Right then, time's a wasting." Without another thought, I went to the door to a waiting Molly and an oddly attentive Mister. Next to my door stood the last two things that were in any way useful. The first was a sawed-off shotgun – for the first time I was thankful my halfbrother had a nasty habit of leaving illegal weapons out in the open whenever he left them at my place. The second, Fidelacchius, a Sword of the Cross that I had been appointed the owner of until I found another worthy to wield it against the Denarians. I let out a harsh laugh – only I could be the owner of the most powerful relics both sides sought, and accept neither. Too noble for my own good.

"Right, that's everything." I opened the door, and the three of us walked out into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Fifteen minutes later, and I was finally starting to think in terms of what I was going to do beyond the next ten seconds. We had torn out of my house like bats out of hell. Fix had apparently gone the extra mile for me after all – the Blue Beetle was parked up against the curb of my building – an impressive feat for a car that I had last seen north of the city on a vampire's estate. Now, driving around the streets populated by the early morning trash collectors and the occasional gaggle of teenage hormone bombs, I began to wonder just what the hell I was going to do next.

It was a safe bet that most of my usual hideouts were either under watch, or would be very, very soon. Furthermore – my car isn't exactly inconspicuous. My old Volkswagen is only blue in name – various run-ins with the more antisocial elements of Chicago have forced my mechanic to show a level of creativity worthy of a concert pianist. Both doors have been replaced, as has the hood and most of the interior furnishings. So the council looking for a blue/green/red/white Beetle registered to Chicago's only listed wizard wouldn't take much effort, even discounting the fact that at least one of their number had the ability to pull a satellite out of orbit and drop it precisely on a target several thousand miles away. Step one, get rid of car. Step two...not a clue. Step three is profit though, I'm sure of it.

"So, grasshopper, anyplace you'd like to see on this road trip?" I grumbled, trying to clear my mind of a million thoughts. "Personally, I'd suggest Six Flags, but I'm not sure it's a good idea to mix magic and hanging upside down at the whim of a computer." Molly gave me a smile, giggling as a Bob possessed Mister purred as she stroked his belly. At least one of us was happy.

"Forthill." She said as she quieted down. Realizing I had no idea what she was talking about, she continued. "Father Forthill, he'll help – get in touch with my dad at least." Of course – Father Forthill of St. Mary's of the Angels, one of the largest and most historic landmarks in Chicago, was a long acquaintance of mine and a good friend of Molly's father. Both men had done much for me over the last few years, and would understand my predicament. Of course, Michael was a Knight of the Cross, and had spent much of his life devoted to thwarting the Denarians and recapturing the Fallen. If he thought I had been seduced by Lasciel into taking the coin, and that I had endangered his daughter... it wasn't a conversation I was looking forward to having.

Still, Molly's plan had merit. And as time crawled forward, I began to focus on the collateral damage my actions could cause the small group of folks I considered friends. Billy and the Alphas – a gang of college students who fought crime in wolf form in their spare time, and the closest thing I had to groupies. Thomas, my half brother vampire – if what The Merlin had hinted at was true, he could very well be dead or trying desperately to contact me. If he showed up at my flat when the cavalry arrived... right, Harry – angst never looked good on your handsome self. Go to the Church, borrow the phone, and everything will be just grade A fantastic.

"Harry...Harry!" I snapped back around to Molly, heart suddenly running at a million miles a minute as shes shouted at me out of the blue. Nothing gets the blood jumping like a woman screaming out of the blue – a fact the horror industry has squeezed for every last drop. "Molly...Christ. I can do without the random heart attacks, what with all the homegrown ones I've been getting lately." She glared half-heartedly, then continued, voice quieter.

"Why did they want to...to kill us? Harry, I promise...I haven't done anything wrong. I'm not perfect, but I haven't abused magic, not again." Her voice rose, panic driving her now. Hell's Bells – as if I couldn't feel anymore terrible.

"Molly, time out." I shouted, my outburst shocking her in momentary silence. Before she could start up again, I continued, though I did my best effort to come over as softer, nonthreatening. "You haven't done anything kid, I promise. The Merlin...hell the whole council is totally out of line, and I'm not perfect either. You're the innocent one here – remember that. Once we have a minute – get to the church, settle down and call a few friends – I'll explain everything, alright?"

She nodded, though I could see suspicion forming behind her eyes, a kind of dark cloud that was forming just below the surface and it struck me deeper than I would have thought possible. Dammit, I know I'm not perfect, far from it – but some part of my soul likes to imagine I am, and it always cries out when the image is shattered. For those kids at Camp Kaboom, now for Molly... I _like _being the hero.

"Anyway," I continued, shifting the conversation away from my own questionable character. "Your dad has a knack for being where he's needed." I gave her a tight smile. "Not too long, and you'll have another tale for the Jawas about the time that Daddy saved the useless Wizard's ass yet again." She didn't smile back – just kept looking at Mister and scratching his ears. Great, so in addition to feeling like crap and making Molly feel any more worse, I was going to have to deal with a very smug Bob in a few hours. When it rains it pours.

The rest of the ride was spent in uncomfortable silence, and despite the dread of facing Molly's parents knowing that my actions had ,however unintended, led to the doom being brought down upon us, it was a relief to get out of the confines of the car. Molly and I stepped out, and after a moment to give Bob a meaningful look, I ushered her quietly into the building.

I wasn't really surprised to see that Father Forthill was up and about. The Godly types seem to have a sixth sense about when they're needed. Or by the grim expression he gave me at our entrance, word travels fast amongst those with an ear to the ground and an idea of what to look for. It had been...just over six hours since I'd been bludgeoned unconscious for the first time. Obviously, a Warden being turned upon and executed for treason was news that traveled. First Class, Gold Medallion even.

"Mr. Dresden. Ms. Carpenter – to what do I owe the pleasure of your company at this early hour?" As if _that_ wasn't a bullshit question. Thankfully, I was spared answering as Molly let out a yawn that made me momentarily wonder if her jaw wasn't part snake. "Gracious Child, do sit down. Rest. Mr. Dresden...if I might have a word in private?" I nodded, too tired to argue at this point, and placing my trust in the hands of God – or at least one His proxies on earth.

Molly's last reserves of energy were all but gone entirely, and I half led, half dragged her to the first row of pews – patting her shoulder awkwardly as she curled up, dead to the world in less than thirty seconds. It was a relief to see – for the first time in what felt like forever, the poor kid seemed to be in a state resembling peaceful.

"Right then," I said softly, turning back to the Father, "I suppose you'd like to hear how we ended up at this particular happily ever after?" Father Forthill nodded, gesturing to a small office tucked into the corner. It was perfect, I wasn't about to let Molly out of my line of sight for a second, but I was more than willing to be out of earshot. I may be hunted by the most powerful wizards on earth, as well as by vampires, Fallen angels, and a unbelievable amount of bad luck, but don't say things don't fall into place once in a while.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, explaining to your would be savior just how badly you've missed the can. "A few years back, I took a Denarian coin...Lasciel." I looked up, meeting the eyes of a man at least a good foot shorten than myself. I expected to see condemnation, but determined to meet his gaze – to at least prove to myself that I had made the right decision. Surprisingly, his face betrayed nothing. "I know. Lasciel, the Seductress."

"You know? How?" A moment's pause and it clicked together. "Ahh, Michael." Father Forthill nodded, then spoke once more – again in that controlled, calming voice that lends itself to being heard and respected. "I have talked with Michael many times about your unique situation, and the circumstances that led to it. I will assist you anyway I am able, provided that evil intent does not rest within your heart. However, ultimately it is you who must forsake the coin, as everyday you fall in greater danger of falling to the allures of temptation."

Stars and stones, but it felt good to have somebody in my camp for once! Team Dresden – at this rate, I might survive long enough to field my own baseball team. "Since that day, I've never touched the damned thing. Locked it within a circle in my basement, then under a great slab of concrete. I'm not going to become one of _them."_

"Perhaps..perhaps not. The road to hell is paved with the bestest of intentions. Still, the Shadow of Lasciel lives within you, buried into your soul – does it not? Time is a valuable commodity for mankind, yet there are those for whom it is nothing but a single drop amongst an ocean of eternity. You must never let your resistance fall, and ultimately, Harry Dresden, you cannot hide such a force, bury it under stone. You must purge your very soul, reject the empty promises and give up the coin."

Dammit, I _know_ this. Problem is, she might be a soulless fiend with a determination for my sould that would put the coyote to shame but... I like Lash. She's fun, powerful... and sex concentrate. And on top of which, there's a dark corner of my conscious that _wants_ the power she offers, on top of the appreciation of it that even I can admit to myself I admire. But that corner, it wants more, craves that which I could have for only the low, low cost of my soul.

And on top of _that_, is the noble-to-the-point-of-death part of me that honestly believes that day by day, Lash is becoming her own entity, no longer a tool of the angel resting inside the coin. Two polar opposites within myself, both in agreement to protect Lash, even if their motivations are entirely at odds.

Harry Dresden 101 – if you aren't mad now, it's only a question of when.

"Father... not to be a potential foot soldier for Satan and also, heaven forbid, a bad guest, but could I borrow your phone? There's a few people I need to talk to – make sure they don't get caught up in the crossfire." Much, much safer topic of conversation, and bless him, Father Forthill stood up, gesturing to the phone on his desk. "Of course. I'll go check on Ms. Carpenter – we have blankets and cots in storage here – no doubt that would be much more comfortable for the poor girl. Take your time."

He closed the door behind him, and I picked up the phone – an old model with a rotating dial. Obviously, Father Forthill recognizes a certain benefit to older technology, especially in a city that seems to act as the magical hub for all things supernatural in the Midwest.

Of course, old technology is better than new technology, but that doesn't necessarily make it _good._ The phone hissed and popped, and I tried to reign in my magic as much as possible, muting my emotions as much as I could. The static faded slightly, enough that I could accurately hear my brother's deep 'hello'.

"It's me." I blurted, cutting to the heart of things. "Don't go to my house, it's not safe."

_'You've reached Thomas Raith, but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.' _

...Answering machines. I hate answering machines. And typical of my brother, even mechanized his voice oozed with promises of sex. The phone hissed again, spluttering a moment before I hung up, not wanting to completely destroy the one tool I had at the moment. Taking a deep breath, I called back, keeping down the anxiety of his not actually being there. True, I never really call him at four in the morning on a regular basis, but given the evening, it was a safe bet that if he wasn't picking up, it wasn't because he was busy with a rowdy game of orgy or the inevitable post sexathon nap.

"Don't come after me. Don't come to my home. It's not safe." I left out names entirely, I'm not paranoid about faceless robots tracking phone lines for important names and words. After all, it's not paranoia if experience means there's a fifty-fifty chance you're right. Short and sweet, I like my phone messages like I like my women.

One down, one to go. I'd done all I could for now to get in touch with Thomas, I just had to hope like hell that he was alright, and get in touch with him as soon as I had a moment to do anything but stay one step ahead of shitting myself.

Picking up the phone again, I called up Billy's apartment near the university. _C'mon...live the stereotype...be up and awake yet magically sober enough to have a conversation..._

"_Harry, do you have any idea what time it is."_

I don't think I've ever felt so much pleasure at a woman nagging at me. Ever.

"Georgia, thank god you're there. Something's come up...how'd you know it was me?"

She yawned down the phone, and I could here Billy grumbling as Georgia woke him up. _"They came up with the thing called caller ID a few years back. Crazy huh?" _Another muffled yawn. _"And only you could do something so insane that would require our help at god knows what hour."_

"Well," I responded, slightly miffed – I like to think of myself as a modern guy, even if the new toys hate me. "I was only calling to make sure you guys don't end up missing your heads. But if now isn't a good time..."

Alright, so I was more than a little miffed, but I was running on an empty tank, and my nerves had been shot to hell. Georgia once said that my snide attitude is a defense mechanism when I'm uncomfortable due to a sense of distrust I cultivated as a child. Course when she told me that, I told her she'd be better off making me a sandwich, so who's to say who's right?

"_Right, right...sorry just a little tired. We had a night out and only got in a few hours ago – not really a morning person. What's up?" _Georgia sighed, muttering to Billy in a voice too muffled for me to hear, but if his barked laughter was any indication, it wasn't very flattering.

"Ah look...I know when I've been an ass. I can't really go into it right now, but I'm kinda on the run. Don't try and contact me or come over to my house – odds are its already being watched, and you'd get in more trouble that you could bail yourselves out of."

"Harry, what kind of trouble are we talking here?" Georgia had passed the phone on to Billy, de facto leader of the Alphas. For a guy who a moment ago was mumbling in his sleep, he was remarkably on the ball.

"The White Council thinks I'm the traitor they're after...and at first glance, the evidence is kinda on their side." It hurt like hell to admit that, but Billy's gang has saved my life more than once – I'd be damned if I was going to be anything less that straightforward with them.

"Well...shit." Speaking of candor, Billy's response summed up the evening perfectly. "Right, I'll spread the word – nobody goes looking for you or tries to get in touch until you get back to us. Anything else we can do on this end?"

I must be the most bipolar person in the world. It seems that the vast majority of people I run into make it their life's mission to kill me. My official comrade in arms had tried to kill me now no less than three times, and my adopted parent after my father had died had tried as well. I've been chin deep in shit stemming from this war now for years, and on two seperate occasions I've had an arrest warrant with my name on it from the Chicago PD.

And yet, those that were close to me, really close to me, seemed to have an unswerving loyalty that shocked me to the core. Hell, even with the power and prestige of the Summer Knight, Fix still semi-reverted back to his awkward self in my direct presence. Toot-toot and his army of Wyld Fae, Molly...and her entire family really, and now, with nothing more than my word, Billy and Friends were once more willing to stick their necks out for me. Fuck those bastards on the council, if they knew me half as well as they thought they did, they'd realize I had far too much to willingly betray those I considered my friends.

"Actually...yeah, if you don't mind, there is something that would do a hell of a lot towards restoring my peace of mind. Mouse...I don't know what's happened to him – whether the Council caught him or if he managed to escape when the shit hit the fan. But keep an eye out for him, would ya? See if you can track him down and take care of him. I'd appreciate it."

"_Right," _he responded. "_That we can do, no problem."_

"Well yeah," I replied, eager to clamp down on the sudden lovey dovey monologue I'd just played through my head. Not good for the image of a tough-as-nails wizard. "One mutt to the next, figure you'll get along fine."

Billy barked out another one of his short, deep laughs, before sobering up once more. _"Alright Harry, you take care though. Despite being you, try not to do anything stupid."_

"Well, that's like telling the tide not to rise," I tried for a joke, though the silence on the other end told me it had gone flat. Sighing, I continued, "I will be, I promise. Just take care of Georgia and your gang, and stay out of trouble – we'll get through this, just like last time and the time before."

I looked up as a knock rapped on the outside of Father Forthill's door. "Anyway, gotta run – you know how it is, a minute of preemptive fleeing is worth an hour of hiding in a corner begging for mercy. I'll talk to you later."

"_Alright. Bye Harry." _In the background, I heard Georgia whisper_ take care_ before I hung up. There, done. The only other numbers I knew off my head that weren't late night pizza delivery were the Carpenter's and Murphy's, and I couldn't risk contacting either. Murphy already put up with enough crap by associating with me and she was likely already a person of interest. I've learnt the hard way a time or two what happens when Murphy is kept in the dark, but I just didn't see any other way. And the council would have to be dumb as well as blind to not have hightailed it to Michael's house the moment I escaped, if not beforehand. Time to go back out and face the music. A tiny corner office never looked so inviting.

I stood up though, rubbing my eyes. I'm sure I looked like an extra from a Zombie B-movie. I don't keep mirrors at home – too many things that go bump in the night can use them as portals between dimensions – but it's not terribly difficult to know my face was caked in dirt and dried blood, bruised and swollen from my capture and no doubt haggard by the lack of sleep. Just the type of guy you'd love to see in your neighborhood church.

Opening the door, I nodded to the Father, before looking out at the greater hall. A moment later, any remaining hopes of a peaceful five minutes vanished. Sitting next to the now bundled up Molly was Michael Carpenter. I wasn't really surprised – in all the years I've known him, he always seems to show up where he's needed. On top of which, I've never met a more fair or decent person and more than once his nonjudgmental approach to _everything_ has frustrated me almost as much as the fact my sex life was last seen during the Clinton administration.

The point I'm trying to make is he's a good guy. And bonus – he already knew I had picked up the coin, and that I hadn't succumbed. And that I'd done it, at least a good part of me had, to save his son from touching the damned thing. So yeah, as much as I wasn't looking forward to the conversation, I could deal with it.

Standing just beyond Michael though, eyes boring into me and literally _bristling, _was Charity. The woman who'd always had it out for me, had woken up at the giddy hour of four in the morning for an early morning stroll to the church... right, where do I change religions? I'd like to cross out 'don't know' and replace with 'angry and vengeful God, with a very poor sense of humor'.

On the plus side, if worst came to worst, I'd already have on hand a guy to give me my last rites.

It's a sad state of affairs when that makes the world look just a little bit brighter.


End file.
